Month: October 2012

3 parties this week:  I guess we are making friends.  Last Sunday to celebrate a co-worker’s birthday, we were invited to an “Apéro”.   This was a new word for us, from French, meaning “aperitif”.  It was like a 1950’s cocktail party: snacks and drinks, plus a carrot cake for the B’day.  Jon had to arrive late due to a Sunday rehearsal, so I had a chance to listen in on some German conversation.  As it was Swiss German, I only caught a few words.

Next, we gave a dinner party Wednesday to spotlight Jon’s orange wine.  Another Autodesk employee had been in the USA and stayed a month at our house, so we asked him to bring back a bottle.  The dinner received many compliments and everyone was gracious about the wine-tasting.

Last night was the 2^nd of Jon’s performances in Bern singing the Durufle Requiem at the French church.

Afterwards, a group of the singers headed out for wine and pizza in Bärenplatz.  The conversation at our end of the table was nearly all in English, but it was still a pleasure to hang out with a few locals.  It had started snowing in the afternoon and when we left the restaurant, we were surprised to see snow had started to collect.  By the time we were walking home from the tram, it was deepening on some bushes.

More surprise today as it has continued coming down, soft and wet and fluffy, all day.  We couldn’t resist heading up into our forest, a fairyland of drooping snow-laden branches.

Another one-day holiday:  Jon had rehearsal on Sunday, so we had only Saturday for touring.  Jon’s request:  once around the lake, any lake.

Lake Neuchatel—did it, Bodensee—did it.  Lake Geneva—too big.   Lake Zurich or Lake Lucerne or Lake Zug—all possible.  Further research turned up Rapperswil on Lake Zurich is the “City of Roses”, which bloom into October.  Decision:  Get there before they’re all gone.  And we did.

On the train to Zurich we met a wonderful couple:  Pieter and Anna.  Both are teachers:  he of German, she of music.  Great conversation, very open.  They told me from their time in America (lived there for 9 months) that Americans generally are helpful:  when asking directions or just looking a little lost, people often went out of their way to help.  I have always felt “helpful”, it seems natural to me to offer to help people and I enjoy it when I can, but I hadn’t thought of it as an American trait.  They consider it a good thing.  While in general I agree, I couldn’t help thinking Americans go a little far, sticking ourselves in before we understand what’s going on.

Our bike route quickly left the city and headed into countryside, taking us up high onto a ridge.  We had hoped for views of the lake, but fog covered the water, so we looked out on a field of white puffs.

After conquering miles of uphill, we were nearly flew back down to the lake on steep roads.  Then we crossed the land bridge into Rapperswil.

One of the rose gardens in Rapperswil is specially planted for the blind, with varieties that are strongly scented.  Although it’s getting cold here, many of the roses were still blooming and we went sniffing from rose to rose .

By the time we had seen the castle (exterior only) and the church (also exterior only, as a wedding was in progress) and smelled all the roses, we were 5 hours into our day and worried that we might not make it back to Zurich before dark so we headed out.

Missing a turn at one point brought us onto a two-lane highway instead of the signed route.  But there was a bike lane, it was wonderfully flat, and there were few stoplights, so we took it all the way back to Zurich.  Such a change from the morning!  We zoomed along at 25+ kph.  Made it back with time to dawdle in Zurich, which meant apple strudel with vanilla sauce eaten lakeside.  Train home, fell asleep on the couch.  AAAHHH!

Fall is here in full force.  It starts in the mountains and seeps down into the valleys.  Saturday we walked to the Gumligen train station under twinkling stars.  The trip to Zermatt takes 2.5 hours and we wanted to spend as much time there as possible.  On arriving, however, we were so cold we ducked into a café and had a 2^nd breakfast instead of getting onto the trail.

Stoked on eggs and croissants, we found our way to the Sunnegga Express.  We didn’t know exactly what to expect: gondola, funicular, train?  True to Swiss custom, they have hollowed out a tunnel through rock from Zermatt to a spot on the Unterrothorn (every hill has a name), 600 meters higher up.  The entire ride is through rock! http://www.funimag.com/suisse/sunnegga01.htm

From Sunnegga we followed a trail, climbing another 300 meters to the Stellinsee, then gradually down to the Grinjisee and the Gruensee. (See means lake.)  Almost always the Matterhorn was in view.

Our timing was perfect:  the masses of larch are golden right now at that altitude.  At times when a breeze came up, we were even ‘snowed’ on by tiny larch needles.

I usually prefer biking to hiking because the view changes faster.  This day I was continuously entertained.  Every few steps, the perspective changed.  The variety of landscape within the 17 km we hiked was amazing.  Fall colors, lake reflections, soft-seeming snow-covered glaciers and the ground gray rubble where they’ve retreated, the sheer magnitude of solid rock jutting skyward:  it’s all jaw-dropping!

This was not one of our more glamorous European excursions.  Weather was iffy.  As the weekend neared, predictions held for rain Sunday, but maybe not Saturday.  On Friday, with Jon working at home, we watched the beautiful blue sky and wished for retirement.  Next best thing:  Autodesk believes in flextime.  With his deadline Sunday night, we opted to take off late Friday to get a few hours of good weather biking before the rains came and return early enough Sunday for him to finish.

In part this was a shake-down cruise for our latest acquisitions:  Ortlieb front panniers and a handlebar rack to hold some of our camping gear .  With a bit of last-minute hurrying, we took off for Burgdorf where we knew there was a campsite which was on the way to our goal: Baden.

A light 32 km later we’re setting up camp.  The campsite’s website had said they were open until Oct. 30.  When we arrived, signs said they were closing Oct. 13.  Another weekend and we would have been hotelling it again.  But, no problem today.

Down in a valley, cliffs to both sides, next to the river…campers will know:  the rainfly was soaked by morning and nothing could dry before leaving.  No problem: we wouldn’t need the tent again because we were staying at a Schlaf-im-Stroh, “Sleep in the Straw”.  Some farmers supplement their income and give city folk a chance to semi-rough it, by renting out empty barn space.

The day remained cool, the clouds kept at bay, the 64 km went well.  Except that final hill to the farm with what would have been a great view of the Alps were the sky clear (and the nuclear power plant not in the center of the landscape!).  A little bit of walking the bike and we were welcomed to the Family Kaeser’s Gugenhof.  Well, I knew it would be rustic.  Didn’t mind the earthy smells.  There was a tarp over the hay, so that made it a bit neater.  BUT the bathroom facilities were definitely less clean, less well-kept, smellier than I would have guessed permissible (these places are supposed to be checked by an organization).  Well, no real problem.  Until the mosquitoes showed up.  We had spread out our gear to let things dry overnight, but we ended up setting up the tent, on top of the hay, to keep out the bugs.  So, no problem.  Well, then there was that one cow.  The rest all seemed to sleep.  Maybe this gal was having bad dreams.  Her bell, with an oddly regular beat, rang into the night.

We heard the rain pour down in the night and prayed it was passing through early.  No such luck.  But still no problem.  We had wanted to test our new set-up for rain-tightness.  The day varied from mist to solid rain, but we felt fine and carried on.  Troopers, you know.

Reached Lenzburg where we had thought to visit the local castle museum, but well, it was raining, castles are always up steep hills, where would we stow the gear if we went in…so we skipped it.

On to Baden.  A few minutes in old town, some nice quiche for lunch, and off to the train station.  A little cold, rather damp, but no problem.

Until we couldn’t find the ramp to get us to the right platform because when I bought the tickets they had forgotten things were changed due to construction.  By the time it was all straightened out, we had to wait an extra hour for the next train.  No real problem.  They had a nice enclosed set of benches on the platform and we could rest a bit while waiting.

Home again, home again.  Bern looked so good.  Sun was peeking through the clouds, the Kirchenfeld Bridge was now open for traffic (it had been closed off for construction until this weekend) so we didn’t have to take the long way home.  No problem.

And then it happened.  The front tire caught in a tram track when we turned at a large intersection.  One second, all is well.  The next, we’re on our sides on the asphalt.  We’re okay.  Bruised, bloodied and a little twisted.  But we, and the bike, are okay.  We think the bike did so well because it’s made to come apart, so while the force of the fall might have broken another bike, ours just twisted where it was intended to.  We straightened everything out, sat at a bus stop to let the shock wear off a bit.  And now we’re at home, camp gear spread everywhere, Jon finishing his work, me telling you our story.

Last Saturday it rained.  And it was cold.  All day.  Sunday was overcast.  And cold.  All day.  Today, Monday, more clouds, more cold.  Depressing.  Not just for today, but in anticipation.  Fall has begun.  Oh, there will be a few more sunny good-biking days before the year is through.  But maple leaves are reddening, oak leaves yellowing, plums and apples ripening. Winter is coming.